


Seven Minutes From You

by blamethebluebirds



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: F/F, slightly AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-03
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 04:57:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 16,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3475304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blamethebluebirds/pseuds/blamethebluebirds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I suddenly realize that the dynamic between us has changed, warped into something alien and altogether different. The lines are a blur now, leaving us both unsure of where we stand. It's sad but if someone had told me I'd be having a civil conversation with Victoria today, I would have had Chloe punch them in the face---this coming from the human time machine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Seven Minutes From You_

_-_

_blamethebluebirds_

* * *

  _ **Quick Note: I do not think anyone by the name of  Josh or Jeff are douches.**_

 

Mr. Gordy stalks away, glaring at me after our little exchange about the price of a gallon of milk. Yes, it’s more expensive than it was in 1969. Yes, I assure you the price is correct. No, I don’t pocket the extra money.

The miserable, old fart throws me one last wrinkled sneer over his shoulder that I match with a syrupy-sweet smile.

“Yo,” I turn, seeing my coworker and self-appointed “best mate” Warren sitting on his ass and rolling a bruised apple up and down the conveyor belt on lane three. “I don’t know how you do it, Max.”

“What?” I ask, glancing at my analog watch. It reads 9:32. Two more hours till closing. Thank glob.

Warren shoots me _that_ look, the one where he’s stated something obvious yet it’s still gone over my head. “Geezer Gordy, duh. Every week he comes in here griping about something or other and not once have I seen you lose your cool. Talk about Zen.”

If only he knew.

Just last week I rammed a full grocery cart into Mr. Gordy’s ’94 Buick. Twice.

Of course, no one—including Warren—would ever know since all I have to do is raise my hand and rewind time then go about my day like it never happened.

I shrug.

“Whelp,” Warren sighs, popping the p. “The peaches aren’t going to stack themselves. Think you can handle the front?”

I roll my eyes. It’s late and _Fisher’s Grocery_ is completely dead. “I think I can handle it.”

“Sweetness,” he calls, already disappearing down aisle six.

I’m just about to start stocking the cigarettes in their case when the bell above the dingy door chimes, signaling a customer. I immediately regret looking as members of the Vortex Club come sauntering in like they own the place. And, yep, there’s the reigning queen of Blackwell Academy herself, Victoria Chase, leading her posse of sheeple.

I hate how every time I see her, I immediately notice things about her. Like how she stands out like an elegant centerpiece on an artless background. How her perfectly assembled outfit, all starched folds and tapered edges, accents her frame. How her hair always manages to look neatly coifed and falls about her striking face.

The only thing that ruins the image is the nasty smirk that spreads slow as molasses across painted lips as those steely, blue eyes zero in on me. I’ve seen this look a thousand times throughout my high school career and its gut-wrenching effect hasn’t lessened a bit. Victoria’s mouth moves, eyes never leaving mine, and her mindless minion zombies crack up laughing right on cue. No doubt about some scathing remark she’s made about me.

I’m the first to break our staring contest. I’ve never been brave enough to challenge Victoria at her own game. The popular girl has had it out for me the moment I stepped foot onto Blackwell’s campus and, for the life of me, I can’t figure out why. The way she bullies me, you’d think I’d hocked a loogie down the collar of her tailored, cashmere sweater or something. As satisfying a thought as that is, it’d be the equivalent of signing my own death wish and I choose life, thank you very much.

I pretend not to watch as the Vortex crew wanders off down aisle twelve. I take the moment to gather myself and prepare for the onslaught Victoria no doubt has in store for me. Now, wasn’t I suppose to be doing something? Oh, right.

I am silently, calmly, casually replacing receipt paper like the well-to-do employee that I am when Victoria and one of her lackeys approach. I want to say his name is Josh. Maybe Jeff or something equally douchebag-esque. Either way he’s just a glorified lapdog that follows Victoria’s every command. The jock’s arms are filled with onion dip, chips, a two-litter of Mountain Dew and some hot dogs. No buns. Staples to any half-assed party. Not that I’ve ever been invited to one.

I try not to stare at Victoria too closely. Despite the fact that she reminds me of a snake poised to strike, she just looks so damn pretty. How someone so nice looking on the outside can be so rotten on the inside is one contradiction I’ll never understand.

“Well, well,” Victoria drawls in that breathless way of hers as Josh (Jeff?) transfers his load onto the conveyor belt. I keep my eyes trained on the scanner as I swipe the hot dogs. “Looks like ratchet-patch kid has been shopping at Goodwill again.”

Josh starts up with this deep laugh that seems overly exaggerated. I wisely keep my mouth shut and focus on closing out the sale as quickly as possible. But in my haste, clumsiness gets the better of me and I watch horrified as the French onion dip bounces off the conveyor and rolls itself underneath the counter.

“Nice going, hobo.” Victoria tacks on as I just freeze up and stare stupidly into space. Her patience for me is practically not existent as she barks, “What are you standing there for? Waiting for a handout? Pick it up.”

“R-right,” I stutter uselessly, practically throwing myself to the floor to retrieve the runaway food item. I have to lie entirely on my front just to reach the dip but I manage to roll it towards me and snatch it up, prehistoric lint included.

I’m so busy wishing the ancient dust bunnies would swallow me whole that I don’t notice Jeff making his way around the plastic bag dispenser. Just as I’m getting to my feet, jockstrap sticks his foot out and, because of my complete lack of coordination, my legs somehow get tangled up and I’m falling. My arms do their job of bracing for the fall but they don’t take into account how close my face is to the counter. My nose slams into the lacquered wood hard enough that tears spring to my eyes. I bite down on an expletive as I fall on my ass, hands cupping my smarting nose.

_Shitfuck! Is that blood?_

Jeff is guffawing even more loudly than before, his face a mixture of surprise and amusement like I had performed some elaborate circus trick. He immediately turns to Victoria, seeking approval and both of us freeze because, _woah_ , Victoria looks livid.

I’m just beginning to wonder if my blood somehow spewed far enough to stain the girl’s outfit when Victoria rounds on Josh like a raging lioness.

“What the fuck was that?” She yells, tearing into him and I’m stare in awe as she steps right up into jockstrap’s face.

“Chill, Vic. How was I supposed to know she was gonna eat it so badly?” He quickly explains, hands hovering in the air like he isn’t sure what to do with himself. “I was just having a bit of fun.”

“I know your IQ is just as tiny as your dick so let me spell it out for you: No. One’s. Laughing.” She bites out each word. “Now, do yourself and favor and get the fuck out. And don’t even think about getting back in my car. Find another way home.”

Jo—Je—whoever the fuck manages to stand his ground for a long, heated moment but his pride is no match for Victoria’s ruthlessness. Finally, he backs down, looking somewhere between wounded and offended and I let out a breath I was unconsciously holding. Shoving his hands deep into the pockets of his letterman jacket, he turns tail and bumbles out the front door, bell tinkling behind him. Victoria stands coolly poised, watching him go.

I’m gawking, I know.

I’m just having a hard time believing Victoria—the Joker to my Batman—stood up for me. Did I cross over into the Twilight zone without realizing?

The queen of Blackwell eyes me with uncertainty for a moment before tucking her skirt around her thighs and crouching to my left.

“Let me see,” she says bossily, tugging at my hands.

I struggle to keep my hands glued to my face but Richie-Rich is persistent. When I finally uncover my nose I ask, “Is it bleeding?” in a voice now annoyingly stunted and nasally-sounding. It’s a rhetorical question since I can feel the blood pooling on my lips and dripping from my chin.

Victoria answers me anyways. “Obviously. Tilt your head back and hold still.”

I do as she says and watch as she plucks a load of tissues from her designer sling bag. She holds the wad of tissue up to my throbbing nose and dabs at the stream of blood more gently than I thought her capable.

A silence hangs between us, broken only by the lame, poppy tune coming through the sound system and the distant racket of Victoria’s trolls goofing off near the back of the store.

“Why’d you do it?” I mumble, the tang of blood on my tongue.

She scoffs as if I’ve offended her. “Just because I make fun of your hipster ass doesn’t mean I want to cause you bodily harm.”

Oh no, I can feel a word vomit coming. It comes spilling out of my mouth before I have a chance to stop it. “Could’ve fooled me.”

Cornflower-blue eyes look up from their task to lock gazes with me and I see a flash of something moving behind her eyes. It’s gone before I can put a name to it.

“Sorry,” I continue. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Yes,” she states, not at all unkindly. “You did.”

I suddenly realize that the dynamic between us has changed, warped into something alien and altogether different. The lines are a blur now, leaving us both unsure of where we stand. It’s sad but if someone had told me I’d be having a civil conversation with Victoria today, I would have got Chloe to punch them in the face; this coming from the human time machine.

“Here,” Victoria says, gesturing for me to take the bloody tissues from her. “I think you can take it from here.”

Plugging my nose, we both get to our feet and stand there kind of awkwardly until I start, bending at the waist to pick up the forgotten onion dip at my feet. Mid-descent, I open my mouth to say something but it’s quickly forgotten as I chance a glance up and notice Victoria’s eyes are glued to my ass.

_Uhhh…wha?_

Blackwell’s queen catches my eye and her gaze darts quickly away but it’s too late. I know. And I know that she knows she’s been caught.

_Ho-ly mo-ther of—_

I snap to attention which temporarily results in a head rush, and watch helplessly as Victoria’s face runs through a range of emotions before settling on her usual go-to; anger. I’m almost relieved to see it because at least it makes sense—at least it’s familiar territory

My brain goes into overdrive; a collage of _whatthefuck’s_ bouncing around my skull and ricocheting across misfiring synapses.

_No, for cereal, like what the fuck?_

And because my head is all jumbled to shit, all I manage to do is hold up the wayward dip stupidly and spew out, “Will this complete your transaction?”

I immediately know it’s the wrong thing to say when Victoria slaps the container from my hand and it goes careening across the room. The abused container finally calls it quits and spills its contents all over the floor.

“You know what?” she asks in a sickly, sweet tone that curdles my insides. “I kind of like your nose like this. It’s an improvement for that sad excuse you call a face.”

With that, she spins on the heel of her designer boots and strides out the door. I’m left in her wake, too baffled to even consider turning back time for a restart.

 

* * *

_**Author's Note: So, originally I had planned for this to be a one-shot  but my girlfriend behooved me to write more. I agreed as long as readers showed some interest in my continuing this. Let me know what you think.** _

_**Also, this is my first go at Archive of Our Own. Be kind.** _

 


	2. Chapter 2

_Seven Minutes From You_

_Part 2_

_-_

_blamethebluebirds_

* * *

 

Riding my bike to Chloe’s house this late stirs up many childhood memories; most of which ended with the two of us in deep shit with her mom. I almost smile at the thought but then Victoria’s face pops into my head and it’s like being doused with ice water.

I pedal faster.

Before stepping onto Chloe’s lawn, I unceremoniously chuck my bike into the neighbor’s bushes. After scooping up a handful of gravel near the driveway, I slip ninja-like through the chain link fence and into the backyard. I carefully avoid the flood of light spilling onto the grass from the sliding, glass door until I make it safely around the corner and find myself straining my neck to stare up at Chloe’s bedroom window.

The window is dark but the low hum of music tickles my ear so I ready my ammo of pebbles. I toss the first one and it veers off course, smacking against the side of the house uselessly. The second manages to make a nice little _tap!_ against the panel of glass but I get no response. I arch a third, then fourth before the window is forced up with a squeak.

I see a messy head of blue hang out and I stage whisper, “It’s Max.”

“No shit,” Chloe calls back, half her face cast in shadow. Even though she makes an effort to be quiet, I cringe as her voice seems to echo loudly across the yard. “Who else throws rocks at my window in the middle of the night?”

I make a show of pondering her question. “Aliens?”

She snorts, hanging further out the window. “I’m pretty sure they would just levitate me out of here if they wanted my attention that badly.”

“I need to talk,” I say, cutting to the chase.

“Hold on.” Chloe’s head disappears and the sound of shuffling followed by clinking glass reaches my ears. Though I’m fully expecting it, the rope still startles me as one end sails out the window and slaps against the house.

I freeze, listening for any sign of Chloe’s stepdad coming to investigate the noise. Thankfully, Lieutenant Dan doesn’t come raging around the corner and I breathe a sigh of relief until I realize I’ll be climbing this spongy rope to reach a second-story window.

I’ve done this dozens of times in the past yet I’ve never been entirely comfortable with heights. I blame it on the time Chloe convinced me that if I believed hard enough, I could fly off to Neverland and fight pirates with Peter Pan. Let’s just say the day ended with a trip to the hospital, two broken arms, and enough teasing to last several lifetimes.

_I never fully forgave her for that._

Steeling myself, I scrambled up the knotted rope with feet interlocked like Chloe taught me during our tree climbing days. My arms burned by the time I was finally able to reach the windowsill. Grunting with exertion, I squirmed through head first until my best friend was able to grab the back of my shirt and haul me the rest of the way in. I slumped to the carpet, mouth breathing like a creepy, fat dude.

“You clearly work out,” Chloe dead-panned, watching as I floundered around the floor until I was in an upright position.

“Thanks for noticing,” I wheezed, stumbling over to the unmade bed and collapsing on top of a pile of laundry.

“Hey, watch it,” she yelped. “Those are clean.”

It took a great deal of motivation but I managed to sit up and spare the clean clothes. Chloe took the time to duck down behind the clunky contraption she called a TV. The old Halloween lights strung about the walls and ceiling lit up, casting an orange haze over everything.

My best friend glanced up, doing a double-take when she caught sight of my nose. “What happened to your face?” she asked incredulously.

“Oh,” I self-consciously touched my swollen schnozz. It was now twice its original size, the left nostril stuffed with a wad of tissue. “I fell at work.”

I immediately felt guilty for lying to my best friend but the last thing I needed was for Chloe to go flying off the handle.

“Max, honestly,” she scoffed, hopping up to perch on the edge of her desk. “You’re about as convincing a liar as a Sesame Street character.”

I leveled my best glare at Chloe but she was too occupied with lighting up a cigarette to take notice. My eyes followed the smoke swirling about the orange glow like cream in a cappuccino then confessed in a low voice, “Some guy tripped me into a cabinet.”

The resulting response was immediate. “What! Who was it? I’ll bash his face in!”

“ _Shh!”_ I waved my hands about anxiously. “Keep it down.”

She reluctantly fell silent but sat glowering and simmering as hot-headed as her cigarette. She shot me a dark look. I continued, hesitantly. “It was just some jock. I guess he thought it’d be funny to see me eat it or whatever. I don’t know. Anyway, it’s no biggie. Someone ended up coming to my rescue.”

“Who? Your boy toy, Nerdilocks?”

“No!” I squeaked, affronted. “It was a girl. And Warren _isn’t_ my boyfriend.”

“Uh-huh. Who was the chick?” Chloe asked, momentarily forgetting her earlier anger.

“About that.” I began to pick at a loose thread hanging off the bed, conveniently avoiding eye contact. “That’s why I wanted to talk to you in the first place.”

How much was I going to confess to Chloe exactly? I knew for a fact that she was all too familiar with who Victoria was. Everyone in Arcadia bay did. Besides the fact that Victoria was, like, the richest girl in all of Oregon, she was also the greatest dancer to ever grace Blackwell’s performing arts program.

“The—girl,” I blurted, making up my mind not to mention Victoria’s name at the last second. “who came to my rescue, well, um—I guess—”

“Spit it out,” Chloe urged, growing impatient with my stuttering.

“ _Ithinkshewascheckingmeout!”_ I rushed, the words running together awkwardly. Chloe looked ready to burst into a fit of laughter so I took a deep breath and tried again. “I’m pretty sure I caught her looking at my ass.”

As soon as Chloe chomped down on her lips to keep from laughing hysterically, I knew this was a terrible idea.

_Should I just rewind here?_

Before I could do my freaky superpower thing, Chloe was able to pull herself together enough to choke out, “And you’re telling me this because?”

“Oh, well you see, I just thought because you’re gay and all you could tell me—” What the hell is coming out of my mouth? Stop talking, Max. “—I mean, at least I was hoping you could tell me why I—”

Thankfully Chloe could see the horrible struggle wreaking havoc on my insides and came to my rescue. “Max, chill dude. Think about what you want to say then say it.”

_Breathe. Just breathe._

I sat in the stillness listening to the guitar drift stemming from the boom box and worked at getting my head on straight. When my thoughts were sorted into something resembling order, I confessed, “When I realized the girl was checking me out, I felt flattered of course but, more than that, I felt this sort of thrill go through me. I guess I’m just a bit confused. Shouldn’t I feel, I don’t know, something else—anything else?”

Chloe took a long drag, blue bangs falling into her face while she takes her time coming up with an answer for me. “Was she hot?”

_Okay, that was not what I was expecting._

“What?”

“Just answer the question, Max.”

“Well yeah, I guess.” I could perfectly bring to mind the image of Victoria’s face; the blue of her eyes, the sweep of her hair.

I remember the school put on a production at the beginning of the year, a way to start the school year off with a bang. I remember how Victoria glistened beneath the waxy colors of the spotlight. Her body twirling and bending and weaving a heartbreaking story to the sound of a lonely violin. How, in that moment, I wanted to capture her on camera more than anything.

“She’s beautiful,” I whispered softly and never have my words fallen so short before.

“I think you have your answer then,” Chloe smirked, tilting her head back and blowing a circle of smoke. I was once again reminded that there were times when my best friend seemed wise beyond her years.

 

* * *

 

It’s been several days since the Victoria incident and my nose has finally gone back to its rightful size. After my big revelation, I expected the world to seem different, altered in some way to fit the way I, myself, felt transformed. But everything was as it should be.

The Vortex Club still owned the school, the nerds still bullied into submission, and Victoria was still a raging, hormonal bitch.

Though there was one thing out of the ordinary: Victoria seems to be avoiding me. Well, as much as anyone can avoid someone who shares two of their classes.

The popular girl would usually take any opportunity to humiliate me but during science class, Ms. Grant called me out to answer a question about chromosomes and, of course, I didn’t know what to say because science confuses me. That was supposed to be Victoria’s cue to raise her hand, give the correct answer and then smack me down with a witty, snarky remark about my questionable intelligence.

Instead, she remained silent, diligently facing forward in her seat.

_Mind blowing._

So now I’m in the photography department’s dark room after school, waiting for my photos to develop so I can go home. I’m the last one here as per usual.

_Sometimes being the teacher’s pet has its benefits._

I’m just about to transfer the negative to the drying rack when I hear a commotion coming from behind the door. No one’s supposed to be in here. As far as I know Mrs. Mueller only gave me permission to stay after class with the condition of that I lock up afterwards. I shrug it off, thinking that it’s probably just a classmate that left something behind, when I hear what can only be Victoria’s voice.

I hold my breath and listen. I can tell that she’s conversing with someone and from the sound of it, it’s a heated argument. I can’t make out any of the words, just the hum of whispered voices.

I find it odd that Victoria is in the photography room in the first place. There’s really no reason for it other than the fact that it’s an empty classroom in a secluded part of the school.

Curiosity tugs at me, demanding I take a peek but I don’t dare risk ruining my negatives. I shuffle closer to the door, anxious to overhear what’s being said, when my shoulder brushes against a shelf and a box of clothes pins falls to the floor with a resounding clatter.

I’m mentally beating myself up when the voices abruptly halt and the sound of a door opening and closing can be heard. The resulting silence that permeates from outside tells me they’re both gone.

_Nice, Max. Real nice. Let’s do this right the second go around._

I immediately hold up my hand, concentrating on my surroundings. Everything around me starts to whir backwards, slowly at first but quickly gaining speed. The scattered pins pile back into their box before it zips back to its original position on the shelf. The familiar ache starts to bloom behind my eyes as my last batch of negatives slip from the pool of chemicals on their own. It’s only then that I start to slowly back off on the rewinding and as soon as my hand drops to my side, the world stops and I’m left with a terrible headache.

I’ve gone back far enough that my second batch of photos haven’t even been prepped yet so I quickly turn off the closet’s red, fluorescent light and inch the door open just a crack. Then I wait.

It’s not long before the classroom door swings open once again and I hear Victoria’s voice, much clearer this time. “Okay, we’re here. Talk.” She clearly sounds pissed.

“Enough with the attitude, Victoria.” The voice that answers is masculine, older. It also sounds faintly familiar. “You know what I have to say about the matter.”

“How can I possibly forget,” she growls back. There’s a set of light footsteps followed by a much heavier set. “You never stop reminding me.”

“You know I only want what’s best for you,” Mystery dude states, his voice low and soft.

“Oh, like you’d know,” She scoffs.

“I know you wouldn’t get far without me.”

“I can,” Victoria states intensely, voice rising. “And I will. I’m doing this my way and I don’t need your _so called_ guidance.”

A thick silence ensues, broken suddenly by a desk sliding abruptly across the floor; the noise loud enough to startle me.

“You really think you can make something of yourself without me?” The voice is at a lower register now and I shiver at the clear threat it holds. “I’ve worked with several girls that were just as talented as you and thought they could do this without me. Can you take a guess at where they are now? No? Then let me tell you where they are. They’re on their knees giving head to anyone willing to spare a little cash. And before you start on about daddy’s money, let me remind you that money can certainly get you places but not in this business. It’s all about who you know and if you cross me, I’ll make sure you never dance across another stage, you understand? I said, do you understand?”

There’s what sounds like a small scuffle and I’m on the verge of intervening when Victoria spits, “Get off me.” Even from my hiding place I can hear the waver in her voice.

There’s another drawn out pause before the heavy footsteps start up and the door slams shut with a bang. I nearly breathe a sigh of relief until I hear a smothered sob that pulls at my thundering heart.

_What the hell was that? Who was that guy?_

My head is reeling and I want to rewind again just so I can interrupt whatever the fuck that was all over again but I know I can’t. My head wouldn’t be able to handle two rewinds in such short succession. Another cut-off whimper nearly causes me to explode from the dark room to offer some kind of comfort but the potential fallout that could result keeps my feet riveted to the floor. So, like a coward, I stay hidden, my heart threatening to split as badly as my head, listening to the sobs of a girl I never thought capable of crying.

 


	3. Chapter 3

_Seven Minutes From You_

_Part 3_

_-_

_blamethebluebirds_

* * *

 

 

If I was having trouble getting Victoria out of my head before, I definitely couldn’t stop thinking about her now. The mystery of her took up most of my mental capacity. I lost sleep, pouring over the troubling mess Victoria had somehow gotten herself into. What really worried me was that the seemingly shallow, rich girl also happened to be one of the brightest students in Blackwell, so how the hell had mystery guy managed to manipulate her so thoroughly?

_Enough, Max. You don’t even know what’s really going on. It’s none of your business anyway so just drop it._

But then I’d hear those muffled sobs all over again and the overwhelming urge to just _do something_ would rear its annoying head and the thoughts would come streaming back, demanding my attention.

In class, Victoria seemed to be the ever-prevailing queen, dishing out verbal abuse and looking perfectly put together. Though she still seemed to be resolute in avoiding me. It was both a blessing (I didn’t have to worry about being constantly insulted) and a disappointment (she barely even looked at me anymore).

I was broken from my internal musings when I overheard Victoria’s name being said in a whispered conversation between two popular girls in class. I hated how my entire body seemed to stand at attention at just the casual mention of her name, like everything within me was ready to rise up and meet her at any given moment.

“What about her?” the more preppy one whispered, no doubt eager to gossip. Our history teacher was in the middle of a rant session about the Native Americans so the two went unnoticed.

“Madison told me her birthday is this Friday,” Monica, the dark girl who sat in front of me, replied. She was pretty cool. Popular, but not a Vortex club member. Plus, she let me borrow her notes once. “Are you going to get her anything?”

“No way,” the other replied, prissily. “Like, what would I even get her that she doesn’t already have ten of?”

Monica looked thoughtful before nodding, “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

The girls turned back to the front and that was the end of the conversation. My mind raced with this new tidbit of information and as I sat quietly in the back of the class, zoning out, a tiny, absurd thought entered my brain. It stuck with me and by the end of the day it had grown into this massive, persistent idea that refused to be silenced.

_It’s official. I’ve completely lost my mind._

Even knowing what a deranged idea it was, it didn’t stop me from mulling over a possible birthday gift. It became something like a rhetorical concept, just a ‘what-if’ scenario that never held any actual weight. Monica and her friend were right; Victoria certainly had enough money to buy anything she wanted. What could a high school senior with a minimum wage job possibly offer?

Impossibly, I somehow ended up with a present for Victoria anyway.

_Okay, but it’s not like I’m going to give it to her or anything._

Friday arrives too soon.

My first class is Science with Ms. Grant. And Victoria. I’m toeing the line between being both pleased to see her and dreading it deeply. I shuffle quietly into class, a bit early, and see that she’s already there. She’s seated on the far side of her room, speaking with one of her brainless dark spawn. Neither pay me any mind but I notice Victoria sit up straighter from the corner of my eye and I wonder if she’s just as aware of my presence as I am of hers.

At my desk I have a clear vantage point of the girl from behind. She’s impeccably dressed as always in pastel colors and I try not to become too engrossed with the way her grey, knee-high socks contrasts with the paleness of her thighs. My eyes trace the line of her, lingering at a long neck that seems proud but, also, vulnerable in its leanness.

The warning bell sounds abruptly, making me jump in my seat. A stream of students trickles into the room, several of them Vortex members. I wait for the fanfare to begin, complete with the exchanging of gifts and well-wishes but, surprisingly, no one approaches Victoria’s desk. No one even stops to mutter a ‘happy birthday’.

Confused, I double check the date on my watch. The fourteenth of November; Victoria Chase’s birthday. Facebook confirmed it.

I mentally shrug, going about my day like any other. When lunch rolls around, I sit with Warren and Kate, the former dominating the conversation. Kate, bless her, tries to keep up with the fast paced, roundabout story the boy regales with exaggerated hand gestures. I zone out, all my focus trained on Victoria who, of course, sits at what’s deemed the ‘popular table’, full of boasting jocks and gossiping preps. Again, there isn’t any celebrating to speak of; no yelled invites to a party or special treatment.

Sitting there in the crowded cafeteria, it finally starts to sink in that no one bothered with Victoria’s birthday. A deep sympathy surged through my chest, constricting my throat and, as if Victoria could feel it too, blue eyes skimmed the room until they locked on me. She gave a slight start at finding my gaze already fixed upon her and quickly looked away.

_Well maybe no one else cares but I do, regardless of how much I try to pretend otherwise._

My hand slips into my camera bag and I unconsciously finger the gift I never planned on giving Victoria.

 

* * *

 

I slip unnoticed into the dimly lit auditorium. There are already several dancers on stage, stretching and warming up for practice in their skin tight suits. Victoria steps out from backstage with a well-dressed man I’ve occasionally seen around campus. Mr. Jefferson, my brain supplies. Apparently, he’s a famous dancing coach or something and the sole reason many dance majors choose to attend Blackwell.

The man promptly claps his hands and his students wordlessly line up in two rows. As soon as a classical number crackles through the speakers, they’re all set in motion.

Victoria is in the very front and I’m left in awe as she spirals in tandem with the others like they’re all connected by invisible strings. There’s a certain grace in her movements—a purpose—that I will never know. Her body sways to the melody, arcing low then leaving the earth with an elegant leap. My heart swells with some nameless feeling that fills up all my empty spaces. In that moment, she’s so beautiful it hurts.

When the music slows to a halt, I feel like I’ve floated out of a dream.

Mr. Jefferson dismisses the group with a wave of his hand. The dancers all start to wander off backstage and I catch the tail end of Victoria slip behind the curtains.

I stay slumped in my seat for a time as, one-by-one, the dance majors file up the center aisle before leaving the auditorium, freshly showered and wearing normal clothes. By the time Victoria starts up the aisle, she must be one of the last ones to leave.

I stand from my seat, drawing her gaze. A surprised look crosses her face before her eyes narrow in suspicion. Even under the dim lighting I can tell that her hair is still a little damp, the blonde now dark ochre.

“What are you doing here, hipster?” She asks, uncertain. I must have really stunned her with my random appearance considering the lack of insults being thrown my way.

I don’t really know how to answer that. “Happy Birthday,” I mutter awkwardly instead, stuffing my hands in the pocket of my overly large hoodie and fiddling with the present hidden there.

She stares at me like I’ve sprouted an extra head. “Thanks,” she states simply, almost like a question, but something passes behind her eyes and I somehow know I’ve said the right thing. She stalks up the aisle until she stands passively in front of me, shouldering her fancy gym bag.

“Um,” I fumble, pulling the gift from my pocket then all but thrusting it towards her. “Here.”

She glances at it before arching an eyebrow at me. “Mind explaining to me what the CD is for, weirdo?”

I frown. Isn’t it obvious? “Your gift. From me.”

“You do know were not friends, right?”

_Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea._

“I know,” I shrug, acting like her sharp words don’t cut me. Victoria hesitantly takes the CD case from me, our fingers accidentally brushing, and something lodges itself in my throat. I garble around it. “It’s a playlist I burned for you.”

“No thanks. That emo garbage you mistakenly call music isn’t for me.”

_Yeah, definitely not a good idea._

I’m about to just call this whole thing off when Victoria shoves the CD in her gym bag. “Well it’s not like I can take it to a department store and return it.”

It dawns on me then and it’s a wonder I haven’t figured it out before; it’s a front. All of it. The careless insults, the bitchy looks, the flippant attitude. It’s a mask that Victoria wields with a vicelike grip and I have to wonder what kind of world she must live in where such a thing is necessary.

A toothy smile blooms on my face before I can stop it and, at first, Victoria seems taken aback by it but then I see a small tug at the corner of her lips and my grin grows impossibly wider.

“Vic—” I start to say, but I’m cut off.

“Victoria!” exclaims a loud voice that easily carries in the open design of the auditorium. My smile disappears as quickly as a flame blown out and Victoria’s mask snaps sharply back into place.

_‘Enough with the attitude, Victoria.’_

I recognize the voice immediately and I turn, seeing Mr. Jefferson leaning casually against the stage.

“I have to go,” Victoria says dully. I watch wordlessly as she squares her shoulders and trudges over to him. It isn’t until she’s standing next to him that I realize how small and thin and young she is.

And, suddenly, I’m afraid.

 

* * *

**_Author's Note:_ _Alright, so I think it’s time we sat down and talked straight for a moment. This fanfiction will be exploring some dark themes (evidenced by both Chapter 2 and 3) and while it won’t be anything too scandalous, this is a M-rated fic. Of course there will be plenty of the good, fluffy stuff as well but I just needed to make sure that everyone goes into this understanding that perfectly clear._ **

**_Now bring on the feels. *basks in the emotional turmoil I've caused*_**


	4. Chapter 4

_Seven Minutes From You_

_Part 4_

_-_

_blamethebluebirds_

* * *

 

The next day, Victoria finds me in the same place. She doesn’t say a word as she marches up the aisle, grabs me by the wrist, and practically drags me outside. I go along quietly.

Once we’re out of the auditorium, I notice that the sun has already set, the air crisp in its absence. A breeze teases the blonde hair resting at the nape of Victoria’s neck. I shiver, the drop in temperature only partly the cause.

As soon as the heavy door swings shut with a bang, my wrist is released and the rich girl spins on her heel to face me.

“This better not be turning into a regular thing,” she says, crossing her arms and appearing mildly unimpressed with my being here.

_You aren’t fooling me, Victoria. Not this time._

I ignore her. “So what’d you think?” I ask, eager to know what she thought of my gift.

“That would depend on whatever the hell it is you’re going on about.” She turns, shifting her gym bag to the opposite shoulder and begins to walk away without another word. I’m left staring after her but before I can become too upset by her blatant disregard, she glances back. “Well? Are you coming?”

I startle before falling into step beside her. I continue where I left off. “My playlist,” I clarify. “Also occasionally referred to as emo garbage.”

We pass under a street light and I catch the sidelong look she cuts me. “It furthered my undying hatred toward shitty folk music.”

“So,” I drawl, fighting a teasing smile. “You listened to it.”

“I—” She breaks off, lost for words.

_Got’cha!_

“Don’t let it go to your head, Skinny Jeans,” she finally blurts, her brow furrowing in a way that causes me to hide a secret smile.

In the short pause that follows, I finally take notice of the height difference between us. Though Victoria isn’t taller by much, the difference is enough that if I were to kiss her, I’d have to raise up on my—

_Oh God—don’t you dare think about kissing her._

Of course, as soon as the thought enters my head, my gaze travels down to those slightly pursed lips encased with pink lip gloss and I start to think about what that mouth would taste and feel like pressed against my own.

“Don’t think too hard, Freckles. That big head of yours might explode under the strain,” Victoria states, breaking me out of my thoughts.

“Can we please just go five minutes without insulting my intelligence and the way I dress?” I mumble, eyes glued to the pavement.

“Um, no,” Victoria scoffs. “A crappy CD isn’t going to change anything between us, Caulfield.”

“Maybe not,” I huff, growing irritated. “But it wouldn’t kill you to be little kinder.”

“Newsflash, Freckles, I’m not a nice person and if you haven’t figured that out by now then you really are as hopeless as you look.” And I’m floored by how assured she sounds, like she’s stating an irrefutable fact. Suddenly, I’m desperate to prove her wrong.

“Well you’re not a bad person either,” I insist, voice rising as I round on the blonde, coming to a halt in the middle of the sidewalk.

Blue eyes narrow dangerously. “You don’t even know me.”

“Well maybe I’d like to!” I declare, my voice loud enough to echo across the empty campus. As soon as the echo tapers off, I realize the weight and significance of my words. Heat scorches my face and I immediately become fascinated with my shoes. I feel Victoria’s gaze like it’s tangible but I can’t bring myself to look at her.

Right before the silence between us turns oppressive, I hear Victoria part her lips to say something but is cut off by a stuttered, hissing noise followed immediately by a shrieking gasp. I jolt, confused as to why Victoria screamed until I realize that the automatic sprinklers surrounding the grassy turf we’re standing near has activated. And, as luck would have it, the blonde just happened to be standing next to a faulty sprinkler head that’s effectively jettisoned her with a torrent of water.

She lurches out of the spray, shoulders hunched and mouth hanging open in wordless indignation. I’m too stunned by this turn of events to laugh properly.

“Oh, shit. Vic—”

“ _Don’t!”_ she warns sharply but I step forward anyway.

Even in the moonlight, I can tell that the entire backside of her blouse is completely drenched. “At least it’s only wat—”

I’m interrupted again. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence, Caulfield. This is a Kristen Blake.”

“Who?”

“A really expensive designer,” Victoria grits out between clenched teeth.

“You pay all that money for a shirt that can’t handle a bit of water?” I question, watching beads of water drip from her shirt.

“I don’t see _your_ Goodwill getup dripping with lawn water,” she snarls.

Victoria stares me down as if daring me to utter another word but I just shrug off my bag, setting it down safely on the sidewalk. Still holding eye contact in a silent refusal to back down, I sidestep the angry blonde and march into the ring of sprinkler heads. I stand in the misting spray feeling my clothes grow sticky and heavy with water and secretly rejoicing at the dumbfound look on Victoria’s face.

It seems to surprise us both as Victoria begins to giggle. It quickly morphs into a full-blown laugh and this version of the queen of Blackwell—the laughing, carefree one—is entirely beautiful.

I don’t even bother fighting the grin that splits my face as water drips from my hair and eyelashes. But as much as I enjoy seeing Victoria like this, I’m beginning to shiver. My wet jeans chafe as I begin to slop off the grass but before I can take two steps, I’m slipping and falling directly into a puddle of muddy water.

That really gets Victoria roaring, complete with poorly concealed snorts. I’m holding my mud-caked hands away from my body when the blonde chokes out between laughs, “How do you drown a hipster?”

There’s no reason to answer as I slowly stand to my feet.

“In the mainstream,” she finishes and I can just see how pleased she is about that particular quip.

“Well,” I sigh, feigning innocence. “You know what they say about hipsters and hugs…”

She catches on quickly and her laughter abruptly dies. “Try it and I will end your life, Max Caulfield.”

I’m bluffing, of course, but she doesn’t know that.

 

* * *

 

 

Victoria and I part ways in a wordless agreement once we reach our dorm. No doubt, there’d be plenty of talk at school tomorrow if anyone were to see the two of us in our current state. I watch Victoria disappear through the front door then head around to the back entrance.

I’m desperate for a shower.

Maneuvering along the first floor hallway is tricky business without tracking mud everywhere. I’m beyond relieved that everyone seems to be holed up in their rooms.

I quickly arrive at my room and tiptoe across the carpet as I gather up all my shower essentials. Again, I manage not to come across anyone lingering in the halls as I head for the communal showers. As soon as the bathroom door swings shut behind me, I let out a relieved sigh and drop my towel and shower bag on the narrow bench running along the far wall. All the stalls are empty, the bathroom completely silent except for the stray sound of dripping water.

I immediately kick off my dirty Converse and bend to pull off my ruined socks. They drop the floor with a wet _splat!_ My shirt clings to my skin as I pull it over my head. I’m reaching to unclip my bra when the door swings open behind me and I automatically tense. I never was entirely comfortable with undressing in front of other people. Even in gym class, I opt to change inside one of the stalls.

From the sound of it—or the lack thereof—it seems the person hasn’t moved from their position by the door. I peek over my shoulder and—

_Oh no. Oh no-no-no-no-no!_

“V-Victoria!” I squeak, shoulders rising up near my ears in some unconscious effort to hide. Victoria looks dazed and I can practically feel her eyes mapping a path across the expanse of my back. My face burns.  “Aren’t there showers on your floor?”

She blinks. “They’re being cleaned.”

I snap my face back toward the wall, my entire body hyper-aware of the blonde moving further into the room. I fiddle with the button to my jeans, stalling for time as my ears pick up every minute movement coming from behind me. I hear the soft swish of clothing, the shuffle of feet on tile. Other than that, the silence is oppressive, threatening to suffocate me as the temperature in the room suddenly rises.

_Or maybe that’s just me._

My fingers tremble as I nervously tuck my damp hair behind my ears. A grumble followed by a whispered curse sounds from behind me but I don’t dare turn around to sate my curiosity.

“Don’t turn around.”

“I wasn’t!” I exclaim too quickly, my voice sounding unreasonably loud in the quiet room. I cringe.

A pregnant pause then, “Right. Look, I need your help with this.”

I pointedly stare at the wall. “A-Alright.”

“My hair is caught,” I hear Victoria say, her voice sounding strangely muffled.

“Wha—”

“It’s caught, as in, I can’t get my shirt off without ripping my hair out,” she growls but I notice her tone lacks its usual bite.

I gulp anyways. “What do you need me to do?”

“Close your eyes. And—just—follow my voice. But keep your eyes closed, got it?”

I squeeze my eyes tightly shut and slowly spin around. “Uh,” I hold my arms out in front of me uncertainly as I step forward. “Keep talking.”

_Please don’t fall. Please don’t fall._

“Hurry it up, Freckles. My arms are getting tired.”

_Please don’t fa—Oh!_

My fingers come into contact with pliable skin and I jerk my hand back as if burned. “S-Sorry,” I’m quick to say.

“Okay,” Victoria’s voice wavers at the edges and I feel just as unsteady. “My shirt is stuck up around my head. Your eyes are still closed?”

“Yeah,” I whisper, not really understanding why my voice has dropped in volume.

Hesitantly, I raise my hands blindly and accidentally knock against a raised elbow. With my eyes still screwed shut, I lightly clutch the blonde’s elbow before slowly sliding the tips of my fingers along her forearm until they tangle up in sleek hair.

_Her hair is so soft._

I clear my throat to break the awkward tension as my fingers come into contact with the button caught in blonde locks. I step closer to get a better angle.

_I hope she can’t hear how loud my heart is beating._

Unfortunately, blindly tugging at the trapped strands is proving to accomplish little.

_This is stupid. I can’t even see what I’m doing. What if I just…_

My eyes flutter open. Victoria’s face is completely hidden behind the blouse locked around her suspended arms.

_Whatever you do, Max, don’t look down._

_Damnit! Why’d you look down!_

I have to remind myself to breathe as my eyes settle on the tragic hollow of Victoria’s neck. My gaze travels the line of a clavicle, lingering at the birthmark nestled there. The swells of a bra-clad chest make my knees weak. I try to swallow down the feeling rising in my throat but it’s lodged there stubbornly. I map the smooth planes of a flat tummy flaring into the jut of sharp hipbones being hugged by a tight skirt and can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to rest my hands on that tiny waist and trace shapes there.

“Max?” Victoria asks tentatively and it’s the most timid I’ve ever heard her sound.

I quickly divert my eyes to my original task and continue to work at the button. With my eyes open, I’m easily able to free the locks of hair. Again, I step closer and help encourage Victoria’s shirt off.

A chin is gradually revealed. Then lips. And I pause because I realize how close those pursed lips are and some brave part of me admits I’m not ready to break the magic of this moment. I unconsciously rise up on my toes and I zero in as those lips part and Victoria’s quick breaths wash over me. I breathe it in and we both hang suspended in this moment as we share the same air.

Suddenly her mouth is on me and _oh God_ this is perfection. This is _so right, so good._

I gasp and it gets lost somewhere in the kiss. My eyes slip closed and even though I don’t have the slightest clue what I’m doing, I manage to capture a full bottom lip before it slips away with a wet sound. It quickly returns and I finally understand why everyone makes such a big deal about kissing.

Victoria surges forward and somewhere at the back of my mind, I realize that she has escaped the confines of her shirt when I hear it fall to the floor forgotten. My arms hang in the air uselessly, not sure what I should be doing with them as Victoria continues to direct the kiss with gentle undulations of her lips.

It’s entirely too soon when Victoria tears herself away from the kiss. We lock gazes as she stumbles back away from me, a hand cupping her mouth as if to hide the evidence of our entirely too short make-out session. Her blue eyes are almost accusing, as if I’ve committed some horrible crime.

I tremble, gooseflesh lining my arms as I move to cover my bra-clad torso.

“ _Don’t ever do that again,”_ Victoria warns, deathly serious before snatching up her things and beating a hasty exit, the door slamming shut behind her.

The thought of erasing that kiss from existence never crosses my mind.

 

* * *

 

**_Author's Note: Oh ho ho! That was quite the kick in the feels, wasn't it? You know I only do it out of love, my dear readers. Anyway, I'm sorry about the long-ish wait for this chapter. Life has been a series of responsibilities (curse them!) but I finally finished this chapter at some ungodly hour of the night/morning._ **

**_Also, shout out to my homie, Tea (itsallaboutbitchslapping) and her magnificent ability to unknowingly inspire me when I need it most._ **


	5. Chapter 5

_Seven Minutes From You_

_Part 5_

_-_

_blamethebluebirds_

* * *

 

Author's Note: So I’m currently running on coffee fumes and yesterday’s sleep but I was finally able to push out Chapter 5 when I said I would. If I wasn’t so exhausted, I’d be ridiculously happy about that fact. As it is, I can barely keep my eyes open. I expect lots of love from all of you.

…

Just realized I have school in a couple of hours. *cries pathetically*

* * *

The power of that shared kiss tilted my whole world on its side. Ironic, really, considering how even the power to reverse time hasn’t altered me in all the ways kissing Victoria Chase has. And while the skinny, baby-faced teenager peering back at me from mirrors hasn’t changed, a revolution is taking place under my skin. My heart in a constant riot with my head. It almost feels as though some vital part of me has shifted, causing everything else to fall away in a landslide that fills up all my empty spaces.

And while the realization that I  _liked_  Victoria—a girl—definitely tripped me up a bit, it wasn’t anywhere near earthshattering. I mean, in a way it kind of made sense. After all, I’d never shown any interest in boys throughout the years; even Warren, who I suppose was good-looking in that cheesy nerd kind of way, couldn’t gain my attention.

Plus, there was a time when I had a brief fascination with Chloe that was, thankfully, short-lived—a secret I fully intend on carrying to my grave.

Victoria, to put it bluntly, was hot and anyone that was remotely human would agree with me.

_And I’m definitely human. A hormonal, teenage human. With needs._

Which would probably explain my laptop’s browser history as of late.

Of course, all the lesbian porn was entirely for research purposes. At least, that was the excuse I used on Chloe when I asked her if she could recommend any adult websites that catered to young, questioning girls.

That was a mistake of epic proportions.

It took an unreasonable amount of time for my best friend to contain herself enough to shoot me an email. When it finally popped up in my inbox, I rushed to lock my door, pull the curtains shut and turn my stuffed teddy around to face the wall.

Finally seated at my desk, I spend a full minute just staring at my open laptop while my leg bounces nervously.

_Chill. It’s just porn. Everyone has watched it at one point or another._

Taking a deep breath to still my trembling fingers, I cursor over to the first link in Chloe’s email before double clicking on it. The video loads quickly, then—

“ _HARDER! HARDER!!”_ a shrieking voice booms through my speakers, impossibly loud in the silence permeating my dorm room. I scramble uselessly, knocking over my chair in the process of turning off the video that showcases one leather-encased woman going at another with this monstrous apparatus. “ _FUCK ME WITH THAT GIANT CO—”_

I stand in the sweet, blessed silence, my heart threatening to give out from sheer mortification once I remember how thin the walls are.

_Chloe Price is a dead woman._

It takes me several hours before I feel up to trying out the other links in the email. Making sure the volume is lowered to a respectable level, I cautiously open up the next hyperlink.

The video that queues up is much more tame. The two fairly attractive women on screen do an unremarkable job of acting out the schoolgirl/teacher roleplay but, as things begin to heat up, they’re convincing in their affection for one another. I sit, transfixed while paying particular attention to the blonde on screen.

To say I was wholly unaffected would be a lie.

* * *

I haven’t seen Victoria all weekend, even in passing; my part-time job at  _Fisher’s Grocery_ made sure of that. So to say I was an eager yet nervous wreck once Monday morning rolled around would be a gross understatement.

I rushed to Science class and in my haste, arrived half-an-hour early. Dressed in my nicest set of clothes, face lightly dusted with makeup, I sat at my desk, jumping a bit whenever someone passed through the door.

I wasn’t sure what I was expecting exactly but, when Victoria finally glided into the classroom, I didn’t expect her to outright ignore me. All throughout the class period, I willed the blonde to turn around and acknowledge me. I even went so far as to voluntarily answer one of Ms. Grant’s science questions even though I didn’t have a clue as to what the correct response could be.

_Damnit, Victoria. It’s always one step forward, two steps back with you._

As soon as the bell rang, signaling the end of first period, Victoria was already heading towards the door. I quickly slung my bag over my shoulder, jogging to catch up but by the time I made it out of the room, Victoria was already halfway down the hall. I stared after her, replaying the kiss we shared on a loop and taking heart in the knowledge that Victoria had most assuredly kissed me back.

Determination renewed, I made my way to the auditorium as soon as the last bell rang, intent on confronting the blonde. Taking a seat in my usual spot, my eyes tracked Victoria’s lithe form as she pirouetted about the stage, her form the very definition of perfection. That indescribable, too-big feeling—which was quickly becoming familiar—swelled behind my ribcage as I noticed how easily the girl outshone everyone else on stage.

This practice session seemed especially rigorous, Mr. Jefferson—who still gave me the creeps—occasionally calling out instructions or critiques. Two hours had passed before he reluctantly called an end to practice.

Victoria disappeared behind stage with the rest of the students as I patiently waited for my opportunity to speak with her. I didn’t dare hope for another kiss, though if it did happen, I’d be more than happy to oblige.

When Victoria finally made her appearance, my heart began to pick up its pace. By the time she was halfway up the aisle, it pounded a furious beat that I was worried could be heard clear across the auditorium. I stood to my feet, my knees almost knocking together as I offered her a shy smile. Opening my mouth to greet her, the words shriveled and died somewhere in the back of my throat as the blonde casually strolled past me without a single glance.

The hurt had to shatter several ribs before it could get to my heart.

* * *

The next day delivered the same result.

As did the next.

And the one after that.

After an entire week of receiving the cold shoulder from Victoria, I was ready to call this whole  _whateverthefuck_ off. Several times, I nearly did but for some unexplainable reason, I kept finding myself in the auditorium after class. Day after day after day.

The break in routine finally occurred two weeks later when Mr. Jefferson didn’t dismiss his students right away as usual. This new development was enough to garner my undivided attention.

“As you may already know,” Mr. Jefferson began, his voice ricocheting around the auditorium. “The schoolboard has given the go ahead we needed to put on our own rendition of the timeless classic,  _Giselle.”_

His announcement was met with murmured excitement. He continued, “However, what you don’t know is that these past couple of weeks, I’ve already taken the liberty of choosing who gets what role.”

The previous excitement quickly turned stale, the dancers whispering frantically to each other. Victoria remained silent, her confident demeanor setting her apart from the others.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Mr. Jefferson tutted and everyone fell silent. “Now I have told all of you several times over about the importance of treating every practice as an audition. Maybe now more of you will take practice more seriously.”

He pulled a folded sheet of paper from the inside of his tailored coat, reciting a list of names and their respective roles in the upcoming performance. As the more major roles were called out, the dancers began to clap each other on the back or give out congratulatory hugs.

“And, finally, we have our lead role, Giselle herself.”

Every head on stage swiveled to face Victoria. It seemed everyone was well aware that she’d be cast as the leading role.

Despite the heartache she’s caused me these past couple of weeks, I felt overwhelmingly happy for her. Even though Victoria is a spoiled, rich girl that gets her kicks by putting people down, she also happens to be the most hardworking person I know. Every day I’m in awe by how much effort she puts forward at everything she does. Including dancing. If anyone deserved this important role, it was her.

As sat forward in my seat as Mr. Jefferson went on to say, “After a lot of contemplation, our lead will be performed by Ms. Taylor Christensen. Congratulations, Taylor.”

I felt completely blindsided to learn that Victoria hadn’t been given the lead. The other students looked just as stunned. Victoria herself stood absolutely still, eyes staring out at nothing. The dancers slowly began to come to life before disappearing backstage. The dance instructor was already long gone.

Eventually, the blonde was left alone on stage. I hovered somewhere between taking action or standing still when, in a sudden move, Victoria spun on her heel and all but ran beyond the curtains.

I was already halfway down the aisle before I realized my feet had made the decision for me. I trudged quickly up the steps, almost stumbling, before I pushed through the thick curtains and found myself backstage.

There was no sign of the girl but that did little to deter me. I began throwing open every door I came across in the maze-like halls, moving on when I didn’t spot a head of blonde hair. I jogged down a long hallway before taking a sharp left and coming face to face with a door marked with an exit sign. I rushed through it, a wall of frigid cold hitting me all at once. My quick breaths clouded visibly as I took in my surroundings. I deducted that I was on the far East side of the school, a few yards from the parking lot no one ever used.

_Where are you?_

Just as I moved to go back inside and resume my search, I heard the clinking of a glass bottle skittering across the pavement somewhere to my left. I followed the sound, turning a corner and my heart lurched at the sight of Victoria standing a little ways away from me. She was in the middle of a small alleyway that led to a loading dock.

I was busy stringing together what I would say when she exploded into action. Frozen, I watched her hurl her large gym bag at the closed, hangar door with a wordless shout. The resulting metallic clash that followed after rang across the empty parking lot. The contents of her bag burst outward and my eyes zeroed in on the familiar CD case that cracked sharply against the pavement.

As quickly as it appeared, the fight drained out of her as she rushed to pick up the CD with a broken sob. She cradled my damaged gift close to her chest, stumbling backwards until her shoulders came into contact with the brick wall. I watched helplessly as she slid to the ground, head hung in admitted defeat.

I had already had the displeasure of doing nothing the first time I saw Victoria cry in that empty classroom. There was no way in hell I was going to be idle once again.

I stepped out from around the corner, resolutely making my way toward Victoria. It was only when I was two steps from her when she gave a start at my abrupt appearance. She hurriedly tried to erase the evidence of her tears, the tips of her ears burning with shame.

Before my head could supply every reason why I shouldn’t, I lowered myself to my knees before slowly leaning forward to encircle Victoria in my arms. I felt her tense and, for a moment, I was so sure she was about to push me away but when a minute passed without any protests, I squeezed her more tightly to me, feeling the small hiccups move through her as she melted into me.

* * *

_Author’s Note: I apologize for any and all mistakes. I’ll go through and proof read this later._


	6. Chapter 6

**__**

_Seven Minutes From You_

_Part 6_

_-_

_blamethebluebirds_

* * *

**_Author's Note: You didn't think I'd forgotten about you guys, did you? Never! But I will suck it up and apologize for the unusual wait. When I first started this chapter, finals week was quickly approaching so I had to buckle down and use my time for studying. Which unfortunately meant fanfiction had to be put on the back burner for a time. But, I should think you'll be especially pleased with this chapter. Take a look for yourself._ **

* * *

 

When we finally broke apart, I sat back on my haunches and we both just kind of stared at one another. Even with her face all patch-worked with red from crying, I still found her to be the loveliest thing I'd ever seen. The mask that she effortlessly slipped into like a second skin had fallen away and I selfishly committed this defenseless version of the blonde to memory.

Never before had she ever looked so  _real—_ so human in all her vulnerability. She appeared so small against the backdrop of brick that if she were to collapse in on herself and disappear, it'd come as little surprise. And the thought terrified me enough to reach out and catch at one of her drawn up knees, my thumb lightly pressing into the rounded protrusion of bone I found there, and the solid stability of it was reassuring in its strength.

The last of our shared warmth was chased away by evening air. Victoria shuffled closer to the wall without breaking away from me and asked in a thick voice, "Can you drive?"

I hesitated before answering, "Uh, yeah."

Before I could further explain that, yes, legally I could drive but that I hadn't had much practice actually doing it, Victoria began to rise shakily to her feet. My hand slipped away as I rose with her, my knees popping loudly.

Slowly, I began gathering up her things while Victoria began dusting off her gym bag. A pair of headphones, a bottle of perfume, and a tube of lipstick were all thrown careless into the bag. And while I gazed about the ground, hoping I hadn't missed anything, Victoria carefully slid the abused CD case into a side pocket. Then I heard the jangle of keys.

Turning, Victoria pushed them into my hands. "I think that's everything," she sniffed, her eyes darting about and pausing to land on everything except me. "We should go."

I fingered the ring of keys uncertainly before trailing after the blonde. I was suddenly well aware of the time, mainly how late it had become. The brightest stars were just beginning to glimmer into existence which meant that curfew would probably go into effect soon. I was anxious to get back to the dorms in case tonight marked one of the random inspections performed to catch students out after curfew.

But, then again, I was just as anxious to be near Victoria, if only just to soak in her presence. Even now, after weeks of receiving the cold shoulder, I could feel the magnetic pull beneath my skin—a stirring of charged electrons that longed to converge with its polar opposite.

After rounding a corner of the school, it only took a moment to reach the main parking lot.

"Mine's the black one. Just there," she said, pointing out a sleek, luxury car even though it was entirely unnecessary. The black and chrome coupe stood out like a gem among the dusty vans and battered compacts.

_I'm not really going to drive this, right? Right?_

My heart suddenly soared at the feeling of Victoria's fingers tangling in mine but the sentiment turned sour when she merely pressed at the remote attached to her keys. The car chirped to life with a flash of the headlights and the dancer slid smoothly into the passenger seat.

_Well I guess that answers my question._

Wiping my sweaty hands on the backs of my jeans, I pop open the door and fall into the driver's seat. The interior of the car was all glossy panels and leather seats. And even though I'm the furthest thing from an automobile enthusiast as one can get, it was no mystery that this particular car had to cost a small fortune.

I turned to Victoria, terrified. "We're not actually, you know, going anywhere. Are we?"

She leveled a bored look in my direction, indifferent to my plight. "Start the car, Bohemian Rhapsody."

I opened my mouth, ready to argue about rules and responsibilities until I realized how much that would make me come across as a total loser. So I kept quiet and went to turn the key in the ignition—only to pause, at a loss by the lack of said ignition.

Victoria must noticed my dilemma because she merely rolled her eyes before leaning over the console and wordlessly pushing a button to start the car. My face burned as the engine turned over with a growl and the displays lit up, casting a blue glow about the cabin. The do-gooder in me balked as I threw the car in reverse and sluggishly pulled out of the lane. As I drove across the parking lot, I kept waiting for one of the security guards to pop up out of nowhere and flag us down but, thankfully, no one was around to see us pull onto the street.

A beat then, "Where are we heading anyways?"

Victoria was turned away from me, gazing out the passenger window. She was quiet for so long that I was just beginning to think she was ignoring me until, "Sometimes, when I have a lot on my mind, I like to drive. It doesn't really matter where to. I just drive."

And, for some reason, it felt like the most honest thing she's ever said to me.

I came to a rough stop before taking a hard left onto Pacific Avenue. It was only then that I knew where we could go. Ten miles below the speed limit, I veered off the street and pulled into a sandy lot directly connected to the coastline. I was thankfully to see that it was completely empty which meant no one would be witness to my botched parking job. As soon as the engine was cut, the muted sound of crashing waves filtered into the silence.

Memories of the endless summers spent in this very spot played like an old film behind my eyes; me building sandcastles and Chloe knocking them down.

I'm broken from my reminiscing by Victoria popping open the passenger door and slipping outside. I hurry to follow her and am immediately assaulted by a strong headwind that tosses my hair wildly about, the strands catching at the corner of my mouth. Victoria crosses the splintered sidewalk and begins trekking across the sand, her ballet slippers barely kicking up sand as she goes. It's only then that I realize that Victoria is still dressed only in her tight, one-piece. I bound across the beach after her, my clunky converse making it surprisingly difficult. Catching up, I quickly pull my baggie hoodie over my head and practically shove it into her arms. She immediately comes to a halt but I purposefully keep my eyes glued to the inky black water pounding against the shore.

I feel her gaze boring into the side of my skull but eventually I see her fuss with it a moment before pulling it on. When I chance a look over, I'm entirely unprepared for the stirring of emotions that races through my veins at the sight of Victoria wearing my clothes. I have to look away and stare at the rotating beam of the lighthouse in order to catch my breath.

We stand shoulder to shoulder, peering out onto the vast ocean and there's magic in this moment—this sharing of space and time.

'What are we doing, Max?" Victoria murmurs, her voice almost carried away by the wind. And I'm struck by her use of my given name. I don't think she's ever used it before.

It takes me a moment to respond. "Well, I thought we could hang her for a while. At least until you're ready to go back."

She shakes her head, clicking her tongue in displeasure. "No, I mean, what are we  _doing_? This—" she makes a loose hand motion between us. "Whatever this is." At the confusion written across my face she scoffs and adds, "God, you're clueless."

_And what d'ya know! The insults have returned._

"It's not clueless when I can't read you mind, Victoria," I huffed, toeing the sand. "So sorry if I'm having a little trouble answering such a vague question."

Her brow drew dangerously low over her eyes. "If you would just use that big head of yours then you could figure out that I'm trying to ask what the hell it is you want from me. You've been following me around like some mutt looking for a free handout for the last few weeks and it's beyond irritating."

I didn't bother refuting her because I knew it was partly true. Instead, I sulkily replied, "I don't want anything from you."

"Bullshit!" she all but shouted while rounding on me. "Everybody wants something from me. So what is it?" I involuntarily stepped back as she advanced on me. "Is it popularity you want? Money?"

I turned to escape this sudden interrogation but before I could take two steps, a strong grip closed around my wrist like an iron band. "Stop it!" I struggled, trying to tug away. The hold only grew tighter at my resistance. "Stop! You're hurting me."

Victoria snatched back her hand, immediately releasing me, and I could see an apology forming on the edge of her lips but instead she quietly insisted, "Just tell me what it is you want."

"I told you," I insisted, holding my freed arm close to my chest. "There's nothing I want from you."

We both fell silent at the momentary impasse.

_Well, there is one thing…_

"Except—" I broke off, unsure if I should continue. Victoria eyes grew strangely intense, waiting for me to continue. "Except, well, that kiss…"

And the resulting effect was like a shot in the dark. The walls that had been lowered this whole time had come clambering up around Victoria once again. "We're not talking about this."

"Why not?" I challenged.

"Because I said that we're not." And it was such a flimsy, grade-school excuse that my temper—usually such an elusive thing—came flaring to life.

"Fuck you!" I spit, the curse almost surprising in its fierceness. "If you're so determined to keep me at arm's length, then fine! You win because I am done trying! I—" my voice broke at the swelling of tears, my throat closing. I turned away, willing the burn behind my eyes to disappear. When it wouldn't, I rushed to get away. I got as far as the parking lot before a grip on my shoulder spun me around and a set of lips crashed painfully against my own.

My body exploded into action of its own accord. My entire world narrowed to a tiny gasp followed by the clash of teeth. Demanding fingers tangled in my hair and began to tug insistently, my head tilting back far enough for lips to slot together more fully. Then I was pushed up against something solid.

_The car. I'm up against the car._

And that was the last thought my brain was able to supply before I lost all cognitive reasoning. The fast tempo of my heart seemed to beat everywhere at once. I let slip another gasp that was cut off and lost somewhere between my mouth and hers. Victoria pressed further into me as my hands lost their uncertainty and began to brazenly slide against the knobs of her spine, feeling every peak and valley. We were now impossibly close, and the soft give of her breasts coming into contact with my own set my nerve-endings on fire.

The bruising kiss was an ebb and flow that matched the pounding waves on the shore. A thrill moved straight through me as a searching tongue slid first along the seam of my lips before forcing its way further and it was such a deliciously odd sensation that I couldn't help but hum into it. An answering shudder that began at the base of Victoria's spine, moved through her and into me. The hands in my hair slithered down, down, down until they each had a hold of the outside of my thighs. With a strong grip, Victoria lifts me then coaxes my legs around her waist and the sharp jut of her hipbones is almost painful when, suddenly, she rocks into me and— _oh!_

My thoughts come streamlining back to me.

_Wait. Wait._ "Wait!" I gasp, pulling away from the kiss with a wet pop. Victoria abruptly pulls away, almost sending me tumbling on my ass.

"Sorry," she says breathlessly, blonde hair mussed and lips swollen. "Sorry."

"No, no. That was fine," I quickly assure her. "More than fine, really. I just—I want to make sure you won't go running off again."

"I—" she pauses and I can see the indecision in her features; the uncertainty. It's only then that I realize that this is it—this is the moment where Victoria finally decides if she wants me or if she's better off without me and, suddenly, I'm on a precipice.

"I—"

And I'm staring down into the drop.

"No more running," she says at last.

I step off and fall.


	7. Chapter 7

Seven _Minutes From You_

_-_

_Chapter 7_

_by  
Blamethebluebirds_

* * *

 

**_(A Not So) Quick Note: *scurries out of hiding* So, hey dudes. Heh heh. Long time so see, am I right? Uh, okay, lets just jump right into it. I'm a horrible person that hasn't updated in a freaking year. A year! Believe me, I have totally missed you guys and every week that passed without another chapter to post made me feel like an ass. I began feeling so guilty that I disappeared from tumblr (my happy place) and wasn't able to respond to any messages. Honestly, I just didn't know what to say. I felt like I had let you all down._**  
  
**But I hadn't let anyone down more than myself. I had big plans where this story was going to go and I just let it...die. So, well, now I'm back because I NEED to finish this. I'm sure I've lost most of my dear readers and I'm not even sure if people still visit the Life is Strange archive anymore, but that's okay because this story deserves to be written anyway.**

**_Anyway, what I guess what I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry and here's the next chapter for Seven Minutes From You._ **

* * *

 

 

The digital clocked blinked 4:59am at me mockingly. The bright blue numbers the only light source in the otherwise darkened room. I could just make out the remnants of an old water stain on my popcorn ceiling that looked strangely enough like a sort of vortex. I had been tracing the shape with heavy eyes while my thoughts raced for more hours than I cared to recall.

  
Last night replayed on a loop like some surreal, romance movie where I starred as the leading actress even though I didn’t fit the image of the lead in the slightest and, yet, there I was—in all my awkward, dorky glory kissing one Victoria Chase. It was like some beauty and the beast montage. And there was no guessing on anyone’s part which character I played.

  
_5:01am. Ugh._

  
My stomach rolled and crashed with nervous energy, threatening to pull me under its waves. I pulled the blankets close to my face to mute the heavy feeling.

  
_Victoria…_

  
Once again, the film reel stuttered to life and my mind turned inward to relive the kiss all over again and the immediate onslaught of feelings that came with it.

  
_5:09am_.

  
I abruptly flung the covers off of me with a groan, my restlessness demanding I forgo sleep.

  
I roll out of bed and shuffle to flick on the overhead light. Blinking into the sudden brightness, I find myself face to face with my scruffy teddy bear, his single-eyed gaze seeming to judge me. I pointedly ignore him.

  
Grabbing my toiletry bag, I decide to get an early start on the day.

  
_Early bird devours the worm and all that._

  
_Proverbs are so morbid._

  
As soon as I enter my floor’s bathroom, my gaze is automatically drawn to the set of long benches in front of the showers where I experienced my first kiss after Victoria’s untimely wardrobe malfunction. My breath stutters as my heart does a little one-two victory step. Toothbrush in hand, I stare at my mirrored image above the row of sinks. The girl looking back at me through all the graffiti looks wholly unimpressive—too many freckles, too little confidence, no boobs to speak of. But, I guess if I squint, I could pick out a few things that were sort of attractive.

  
I mean, my eyes were nice enough and I had straight-ish teeth. My lips were even full enough to be, dare I say, kissable.

  
“God, shut up already,” I tell my reflection in an exasperated mumble and begin brushing my teeth in earnest.

  
I finish up my morning routine in record time and start heading back to my room. The hallways are still dim which is why I’m almost to my room by the time I notice the familiar figure pacing back and forth in front of my door. She seems agitated as she rounds on my door and lifts her hand to knock before seeming to change her mind. Her hand stays suspended with indecision.

  
Alarms start firing off in my head as I stare stupidly.

  
_What’s Victoria doing here this early?_

  
_“_ Victoria?” I croak, my voice still thick with sleep.

  
I see her freeze, shoulders tensing before slowly turning to face me.

  
“Max,” she says, almost like a question and not at all like I didn’t just discover her outside my dorm room at five something in the morning.  
I suddenly grow entirely conscious of my sleep attire under her searching gaze. I mentally curse my oversized ‘Adventure Time’ tee shirt and shorts that showed way more of my pale, stick legs than I was prepared for.

  
_Shitshitshit! Did I even shave yesterday?_

  
I was a second away from making a run for it when Victoria steps forward, crossing her arms in that lax way of hers while her perfectly manicured nails fiddled with the elbow of her starched shirt. It seemed like sexy schoolgirl was the look she was going for today. I completely forgot all my plans of escape.

  
_What’s the protocol in this situation? Do I kiss her good morning? Hug her? What even are we to each other?_

  
I nervously fiddle with the edge of my shirt and avoid making direct eye contact. “Oh, hi. Hey. Good morning?”

  
_Stupid! Stupid!_

  
Instead, I stare at the floor space between the blonde’s shoes and mine. I watch Victoria shift her weight from one foot to the other before asking, “Can we talk?” A pause. “Inside?”

  
The alarms were really blaring now. I had watched enough movies to know that the dreaded phrase ‘can we talk’ was never followed up with anything good. I wanted to shrug and nonchalantly unlock my door while casually inviting the blonde inside. Instead, my throat cinched tightly shut and my hands began shaking enough that I missed several times before I was able to slot my key into the lock. By the time I was able to shoulder my door open, my eyes were already burning with the threat of tears.

  
_Whatever you do, don’t cry._

  
I should just rewind. Turn back time. Let Victoria knock on my door while I hid safely in the bathroom. But then I’d just be putting off the inevitable.

  
_Just let it happen, Max. Like ripping off a band-aid. A really, really big band-aid._

  
Victoria strides past me purposely as I slowly push the door shut. I lean back against the lacquered wood, grateful for the cool, solid surface as I hang my head, my bangs falling like a curtain to hide my eyes. The dancer’s feet stop in the middle of my room.

  
“These are good,” I hear her say and I have to tear my eyes away from the floor to see what she’s talking about. She’s standing by my bed, studying the collage of photographs pinned to my wall.

  
I don’t reply—I can’t with the rapidly growing lump in my throat.

  
Arms still crossed, a barrier between us, Victoria takes a deep breath and I think, here it is. Here’s the final blow.

  
“Look,” she states, almost snappishly. “I’m not out. Like, my parents can’t know that I’m—you know—“ she seems to struggle for the right word for a moment before continuing, “Gay. Or bi, maybe.”

  
All the air rushes out of me in a rush and it’s only then that I realize I’d been holding my breath at all.

  
_That’s it? That’s what she came here to say?_

  
“Oh,” I all but gasp out. Then a little more controlled, “Oh.”

  
Victoria finally looks over at me where I’m propped up against the door like it’s a crutch and must misread my expression because she says, “I know it’s not an ideal situation but those are my terms if we’re going to—“ she motions between the two of us with a wave of her wrist “—do this.”

  
I blink rapidly to dispel the burning sensation behind my eyes and stand a little taller. I quickly reassure her. “No, no. I’m cool with that. We can keep this between us.”

  
The amount of relief that floods into those blue eyes catches me off guard and it’s like I’ve flipped a switch inside her as her stance relaxes into something less aggressive. The walls she had built around herself come crumbling down.

  
“Good,” she breathes. “That’s good.”

  
Then we both just kind of stand there, facing each other while assessing any damage we may have received. I think we were both surprised that we had walked away unscathed.

  
The silence stretches on until it’s slightly uncomfortable. And I jump to dispel it before it can grow into something substantial.

  
“Ah—“

  
“So—“

  
At first, I’m slightly horrified when we both go to speak up at the same time but then I see the clichéd humor in it all and I let out a small giggle. Victoria smiles and it gives me the courage to say, “You first.”

  
“I was going to say that your room suits you. Anyone with eyes can tell that a hipster nerd totally grunges in here.” There’s no sting in the words and I may swoon. Just a little.

  
“Anyway,” the blonde continues. “What were you going to say?”

  
I blush. “Just that you look really pretty today.”

  
The way Victoria reacts to my offhanded comment, you’d think I’d slapped her across the face. She seems at a loss at first, eyes darting around the room skittishly, before finally narrowing her eyes at me dangerously. The flush that blooms on her face is something that I’d keep with me for years to come.

  
I was completely pinned under the intensity of her gaze and I pressed back harder against the door.

  
Very slowly her lips part and she says, “I’m going to kiss you now.”

  
“Kay,” I’m barely able to get out before we’re reaching for each other and my face is caught in slender hands and our lips are brought together with force.

  
I rise up on my toes to better slot our lips together and I’m actively mimicking the motions her mouth make against mine. I must be doing something right because she lets out this little noise that I’m quick to swallow.

  
When she pulls away, our eyes lock. I breathe in the taste of her before I gasp out, “ _Wowzer_.”

  
She snorts, a reluctant smile lighting up her eyes. “Not so bad yourself there, Freckles.”

  
Her smile drops a bit as I trace the motion of her eyes mapping my features. “Should I expect to see you at dance practice today?”

  
“You know it,” I all but wheeze, my breath still not under control.

  
She playfully rolls her eyes before her face draws near once more. I close my eyes, already anticipating the kiss but it isn’t lips that come into contact with me, but the pad of a thumb. It presses in, ever so slowly gliding across my still wet bottom lip.

  
My face suddenly feels so much warmer as I pant and tilt my head back even further.

  
“You might want to clean that up,” Victoria all but breaths into my ear. The resulting goose flesh that that causes threatens to unlock my knees and have me sink to the floor.

  
“Wha—“ I sputter stupidly.

  
_Nope. No higher brain function here._

  
An arm reaches around me and instead of pulling me closer, I hear the click of the door latch and the door swings open with me still against it.

  
“Au revoir, Maxine,” Victoria says breathily before skirting around me and disappearing out the door with one last smoldering look.

  
It’s only when I’m getting my camera and backpack together before leaving for class when I notice the dark red lipstick smeared across my mouth.

* * *

 

My last class of the day has just ended by the time I’m jogging across the courtyard to get to the theater. My steps quicken at the thought of seeing Victoria again so soon.

  
I slip through the heavy metal doors, being careful not the let them slam as I find myself in the auditorium.

  
I immediately take note that the auditorium is empty and dark, the stage only lit up by one lonely spotlight. I’m about to turn back when I hear it—a trickle of music coming from somewhere behind the stage. The medley sounds almost ghostly as it echoes and ricochets off the walls.

  
Checking my phone and seeing that I haven’t received a new text from Victoria explaining that practice was canceled, I adjust the sling of my bag and set off towards the stage. The stairs creak loudly beneath me and I hold my breath to hear a voice call out over the music, but I’m only meet with the violins rising in tempo.

  
“Hello?” I call as I peek behind the curtain, my voice carrying easily.

  
Nothing.

  
It’s dark behind the stage but a single light spills out from a short hallway and I draw nearer, moving hesitantly across the floor. The theater is a much creepier place without bodies and light to fill it.

  
_Jeepers Creepers, much?_

  
The music grows louder as I enter the hall. The crash of cymbals gives me a start but I find a door at the end of the hall where light gathers underneath.

  
Pushing the door open, I find myself in a brightly-lit studio room with floor-to-ceiling mirrors occupying one wall. The classical tune fills the small space and I immediately recognize it as Giselle’s big solo scene being performed by Taylor. And there, in the center of it all, is Victoria.

  
The music slows and she is on the very tips of her toes before leaping impossibly high with both legs fully outstretched.

  
Seeing as how I had yet to be noticed, I brazenly let my eyes linger on the slopes and curves of her body. She wasn’t dressed in what she typically wore to practice. Instead, she had on these skin-tight shorts that showed a dangerous amount of leg.

  
Victoria held a pose, her arms aloft above her head, knees bent as the violins held a long note that slowly tapered to silence. “You done eye-fucking me yet, Maxine?” she asked as if merely commenting on the weather.

  
I began spluttering uncontrollably, my face turning uncomfortably hot.

  
“Relax,” She rolled her eyes, her reflection making eye contact with me. “You can look all you want.”

  
I squeaked out a tiny “okay” but still averted my gaze. From my peripheral vision, I could see Victoria begin to once again dance in time to the music so I moved further into the room and sat with my back against the wall.

"Practice was cancelled, as I'm sure you've deducted," Victoria offered offhandedly.

  
Before I could respond, another tune swelled inside the studio and I immediately recognized it from another scene Taylor had been practicing under the watchful eyes of Mr. Jefferson. I watched as Victoria danced through most of the more technical scenes of _Giselle_ almost perfectly.

  
My hands itched to reach for my camera that I had stuffed in my bag. I fought against the urge until I realized that we weren’t in the auditorium with dozens of other people.

  
_And she did say I could look all I want._

  
Tentatively, I unearthed my camera and lined up a shot. Even before I peered through the view-port, I knew the angle wasn’t right. Getting to my feet, I shuffled forward a few steps, waited for Victoria to transition to the next position, then took the shot.

  
Victoria looked over and arched a fine eyebrow at me but continued to dance. Taking that as an acceptance, I grinned and quickly examined the printed polaroid. It wasn’t a great shot, per say, but it had potential. Something wasn’t quite right. I gave the photograph a critical stare before glancing around the room. My inner artist immediately began assessing the room. The lighting was bright, almost overly so and the mirrors in the back were an interesting background but other than that, the room had minimum props.

  
_Minimum…Minimal…_

  
And then it came to me.

  
_Black and White!_

  
I immediately ran back to my bag and changed out the film. Going back to my starting position, I snapped a photo. Then another one. And another.

  
I began to move about the room almost as much as Victoria, getting a shot of her from every angle.

  
And she let me.

  
Most people under such scrutiny would freeze up or move more self-consciously, but the blonde just continued to flow through her forms effortlessly, ignoring my presence entirely. That was how I worked best, when my subjects were unaware a moment of their lives was being captured on film. But none of my past subjects could hold a candle to the girl—no, woman—I was photographing now.

  
I was startled from my work when the music died and Victoria relaxed from her final pose. I pulled the camera from my face and was immediately transported back to reality.

  
Victoria was surrounded in a circle of black and white pictures that I had let fall absently to the floor in my quest to immortalize her on film. She wiped the sweat from her brow, her chest rising and falling from exertion. And it was only then that I noticed my own labored breathing and the fact that I was completely and utterly turned on.

  
_Well that’s never happened before. But, then again, I’ve never photographed Victoria Chase before either._

  
To hide the state I was in, I quickly began to gather up the photos from the floor. Glancing over them now, I already knew that they were some of the best work I had ever done. In my hurry to gather the photographs, I didn’t notice Victoria’s approach until she placed her hand over my own. I immediately stilled and looked shyly up into blue eyes but they weren’t looking at me, they were looking at the photos in my hands. Slowly, as if afraid I would snatch it away from her, she brought one of the pictures closer to her face and marveled at what she saw there.

  
I was immediately self-conscious about it. Normally, I get to decide what pictures I present to the world. I didn’t have much time to dwell on it though when Victoria licked her lips and asked in a small voice, “Is this how you see me?”

  
I could only manage a tiny nod.

  
“I look--,” she stumbled, as if grasping for the right word. “Beautiful.”

  
Tactlessly, I added. “You are beautiful.”

  
This time, there was no hiding the flush rising to her face and I could only stare transfixed.

  
Victoria mumbled something too low for me to hear as her gazed remained pointedly fixed upon the picture still in her grasp.

  
“Sorry?”

  
“I said, ‘you too’,” she nearly snapped but her tone of voice took nothing from the meaning of the words and the way they made my chest swell with that unnamed emotion that kept popping up more and more lately.

  
Almost of its own accord, a grin pulled at the corners of my mouth and before I could talk myself out of it, I quickly pressed a kiss to Victoria’s lips. It was only a peck really, but it sure did light up my insides.

  
Seeing as how I was feeling so bold, I gathered my senses and blurted, “Want to go on a date? With me?”

  
_So smooth, Max._

  
Victoria’s face had yet to relax from its surprised expression from my quick kiss but now her eyebrows lifted even further towards her hairline. “You want to take me out? Where?”

  
“Um…“ I trailed off uncertainly. That was a good question. And one I had no answer to. I had just sort of word vomited a desire of mine.  
Victoria interrupted before I could go any further. “Look, Maxine,” she began uncertainly. “It’s sweet that you want to take me on a date, but I don’t want it getting out that we’re dating. If it somehow got around to my parents…”

  
“Ah, no!” I held my hands out in front of me and waved them reassuringly. “It’ll be just the two of us. Promise.”

  
Her eyes bounced back and forth between my own, seeking out any deception before hesitantly agreeing. “Alright then. You have yourself a date, Ms. Caulfield.”

 

 


End file.
